


Fracture in the Armor

by everybreathagift



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But Will is trying, Fluff, Hannibal is so bad at being human, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Touch-Starved Hannibal, they're so in love in disgusting, two idiots being terrible at relationships, will loves him anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybreathagift/pseuds/everybreathagift
Summary: Post-fall Will knows exactly what he wants. Hannibal is reluctant to give it. When has that ever deterred Will Graham?





	Fracture in the Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Will made me write this today. Part 2 is coming at some point after TTYLomT is finished. It's all filth and feelings, tbh. Not beta'ed, please forgive any errors.

It had been a joke, mostly. Will had thought they’d reached that point, where they could pick at each other’s scars and laugh it off. They’d survived nearly killing one another numerous times, surely they could survive a meaningless joke, right?

Hannibal had been cooking, of course, and Will had been peering over his shoulder, of course. When Will tried to snag a piece of something from the pan, Hannibal had smiled -one of those genuine, small things that made Will’s heart flutter- and turned to cup Will’s cheek. Will thought they might kiss and he realized how long overdue it truly was.

“You know, the last time you touched me like this, you gutted me. Kinda scared right now.”

Will had even grinned when he said it. Harmless. But Hannibal’s smile had immediately faltered and his chest flinched, like he’d been punched. Then he’d dropped his hand and turned back to the stove, casually saying that dinner would be done soon.

Will had tried to reestablish the contact, fix whatever he’d accidently broken but Hannibal remained just of reach for the rest of the evening. Warm and genuine but not… inviting.

That was nearly a month ago, and somehow, even the warmth seems to be fading. Conversation over dinner is strained, something that’s never happened before. Hannibal leaves without even mentioning, let alone asking Will to join him. He hardly even looks at Will anymore. Hannibal is pulling away, slowly but surely, and Will feels powerless to stop it.

Feeling powerless has never stopped him before.

“We need to talk,” Will says as he bounds into the study, interrupting Hannibal’s reading. He looks really great with those damned glasses on.

“Alright,” Hannibal replies, cautiously. Will doesn’t miss the subtle intake of breath. “Is something bothering you?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Will chuckles, moving around to sit on Hannibal’s desk, right next to his chair. “Why won’t you touch me?”

It’s a rare thing to catch Hannibal Lecter off guard, even for Will, but this question certainly did the trick. The furrowed brow behind those damned reading glasses is proof.

“I… beg your pardon, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, did I read this wrong?” Will gestures with his hand between them. “Because I thought… the way you looked at me sometimes, I thought you were interested. I’m interested.”

“I’ve never been uninterested in you, Will.”

Okay, an even more direct approach, then.

“No, I mean, I’d like to have sex with you. And kissing. I’d really like to kiss you, actually, you seem very kissable and I thought you’d- well, I assumed you felt the same and that day in the kitchen, w **e** seemed to finally be heading that direction but then I- I mean, you know I was joking about that whole gutting thing, right?”

Will Graham babbles when he’s nervous. He supposes, in his long list of flaws, that one isn’t too terrible.

Hannibal swallows with a click that seems ridiculously loud in Will’s ears. When he speaks again, his voice is low.

“There’s always some truth in jest.”

“No. No, there’s not- there wasn’t. Not in that one, at least. I’m not scared of you, Hannibal.”

He doesn’t add the ‘anymore’ because that definitely would not help the situation.

“What if I’m frightened of you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

The scariest man on the planet, afraid of a still-slightly-unstable, dog-hair-covered, domesticated ex-teacher?

With a sigh, Hannibal removes his glasses and sets them down, rolling the chair a few inches further from where Will is sat on the desk.

“Perhaps we can have this conversation at another time, when we’ve-”

“No, we’re having it right now,” Will interrupts, foregoing the ‘talking’ approach and opting to move himself into Hannibal’s lap. The straddle is uncomfortable but Hannibal’s hitched breath and the tight grip he takes on the armrests makes it worth it.

“Will…”

“Kiss me.”

“This isn’t what-”

“Kiss me, or tell me that you don’t want you to,” Will says, cupping Hannibal’s cheek. Reverse psychology is still a thing, right? “You’re trembling like a spooked dog. Do you want to check me for weapons?”

Hannibal clenches his eyes shut and breathes a laugh -hysterical exclamation, Will notes, not exactly happiness.

“I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me, darling, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Again.”

And just like that, it all makes sense. Will’s genuinely curious how Jack ever thought he was great at his job, or maybe Will’s ability to read people had just gone to shit over the years. How had he missed something so blatant?

Slowly, Will pries Hannibal’s fingers from the chair and places them on his hips. 

“You’re not hurting me now,” he says gently. “Right? It feels good to have you touching me like this. For you, too?”

“There are no words...”

“Kiss me,” Will whispers, stupidly desperate, leaning down slowly. He wants it so badly.

“I’m terrified of you, Will, of myself and I-” The rest of Hannibal’s ridiculous sentence is swallowed by Will’s lips, and it’s so much better than Will could’ve imagined. 

Hannibal’s fingers clutch at Will’s hips, so tight it’s nearly pinching, and Will feels sharp teeth against his bottom lip. It’s messy, with Will clutching Hannibal’s shoulders and practically writhing in Hannibal's lap. He feels a groan rumbling against his lips and suddenly, in one fluid motion, Hannibal is standing and Will is being spread out over the desk. Hannibal rips off his jacket, still kissing Will soundly. 

Will reaches up, unbuttoning Hannibal’s shirt. If he doesn’t feel skin soon, he’s pretty sure he’ll combust. Expected combustion, arousal induced. Surely that’s a thing. The fear is only slightly abated when he slides his open palm over Hannibal’s chest.    
  
Then there’s a growl against his lips and immediately, Hannibal has ripped himself back, while managing to somehow pin Will’s arms above his head. 

“Stop,” Hannibal commands, breathlessly, hovering above him. “Please.” 

Will tries to calm his breathing, staring up at the pained expression on Hannibal’s face as his excitement deflates. Where did he go wrong? If his cock is any indication, things were going just right. To prove the point, he unintentionally flexes his hips upwards, and groans at the feel of Hannibal’s hardness against his trousers. 

Suddenly, there’s a scalpel against Will’s throat, and really, this was not at all on his list of ‘Things that could happen when I have sex with Hannibal.’

Hannibal is inhumanely still, and the whole interaction is probably shorter than three seconds. Will hears the clatter of the almost-weapon hitting the desk and Hannibal is stumbling backwards, looking human again. Looking terrified. 

Slowly, Will sits up, cautiously regarding the object of his desire. The object that’s, apparently, fucking bat-shit insane, but hey, Will’s not far from that himself.  But when Hannibal straightens himself and clenches his jaw, Will realizes that he hadn’t schooled his features as well as he had hoped.

“You’re frightened of me now,” Hannibal says, detached again. “More than anything in this life, I never wanted to see you look at me that way again.”

“Hannibal, I-”

“Please, Will. Just leave me be.”

Quickly, he scoops his jacket from the floor and walks briskly toward the door. Before he leaves, he stops to say, “I’m sorry,” in a voice so broken, Will could probably fucking cry. Or kill things. One of the two. Possibly both. Then he’s gone.

 

~***~

 

But really, when has Will Graham ever left well enough alone? 

He gives it two hours. Alright, maybe an hour and a half. Probably closer to fifty-four minutes before he’s standing outside of Hannibal’s bedroom door. He’s gonna knock, and they’re gonna talk, and Hannibal’s gonna fucking like it, damn it.

He knocks but he’s a rude asshole so he opens the door before Hannibal can tell him to go away. Surprisingly, Hannibal isn’t reading or drawing or writing up time travel equations. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, shirtless, elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands. When he hears Will enter, he looks up, and his body language screams of exhaustion.

Also, hot. Hannibal is just really, really fucking hot. Has he always been built like a goddamned sun-kissed lumberjack?

“Are you leaving?” He asks, voice rough.

“No?” Will answers, but his confusion makes it sound like a question.

Hannibal nods solemnly. “I suppose it would make more sense for me to relocate. You chose this place, after all. And Callie likes it here. It will take me a few hours to make arrangements-”

“If you try to leave, I’ll kill you, and you know good and damned well I can’t make any fancy dish out of you so don’t force my hand, alright?”

Hannibal sighs and hangs his head.

Will takes a seat next to him on the bed, and just barely resists putting his hand on Hannibal’s bare back, over the horrible brand.

“You gotta talk to me. What is all this? You were clearly interested back there.”

“That is an ungodly understatement. I’ve longed for you, Will. For years.”

“Then what?” Will sees that Hannibal is clearly trying to chose his words carefully and has to refrain from rolling his eyes. “No bullshit metaphors or twisted poetry. Tell me the truth.”

Another moment of hesitation, then Hannibal all but whispers, “In short, I am touch-starved. I spent three years aching for a view of you. Touch never entered the equation because it was so far out of my reach. Now that it is within my grasp, I find myself… overwhelmed.” 

“And that somehow translates into an urge to slit my throat?”

“Will, you must understand,” Hannibal sighs, outright refusing to look at him. “I’ve never learned how to process these feelings because I’ve never had them. Sex was just that; a release. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely certain I’ve ever touched someone, in a sexual manner, without the sole intent to manipulate a situation to my benefit. For many years, I believed myself asexual.”

Will is all about inclusivity. Asexual individuals get enough shit from society, they don’t need his greediness as well but, damn, is he stupidly happy that Hannibal was wrong about his orientation. Not that he’d love him any less, which should probably be a shocking revelation to himself but nothing really is in terms of Hannibal anymore.

“Now,” Hannibal continues, “it’s as though the adolescent eagerness I never experienced has hit me, rather late in my life. Coupled with a lack of any sort of connection beyond being studied like a creature for years.”

Will wants to touch him. He wants to wrap his arms around him and never let go. Drown him in sensation until Hannibal forgets about his time in prison. Show him how good it can truly be.

“I’ve chosen not to over-analyze myself and discover why it drives me to the point of harming you. Perhaps the need to stop feeling so intensely. If I remove the object of offense, the problem is solved.”

Will truly has no idea how to respond. He could’ve handled Hannibal not being interested. Okay, no, he couldn’t have, but he could’ve killed enough people until his rage over it was sated. But this situation just makes him incredibly, profoundly sad.

“You’re terrible at this whole human thing, you know,” Will murmurs fondly, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I know,” Hannibal says confidently, but not comfortably. “I always have been.”

“Inconvenient compassion?”

“Right.”

At least, if it had been a lack of interest, Will could’ve tried a number of seduction techniques. There were paths to take, had that been the issue. But this is something Will has absolutely no idea how to approach. Wanting someone so badly that it literally shuts down the rationality of the mind?

He nearly laughs at that because  _ come on .  _ He’d given up entire life, faked his own death to be with Hannibal. Rationality stopped being a thing for Will the moment he saw Hannibal in a cell.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Hannibal says quietly, obviously misinterpreting Will’s silence. “I wish I had a solution. I want so badly for you to be happy.”

Well, that makes Will feel like shit because he’s already happy. Sex would be great, intimacy would be phenomenal but they’re already intimate in every other way. They belong to one another.

“Hey. I  _ am _ happy, love,” Will responds, dragging his knuckles very lightly down Hannibal’s arm. It earns him a visible shudder, a strained tremble under Hannibal’s skin that makes him realize just how truly touch-starved Hannibal is. “I don’t need sex to be happy with you.” He means it.

“But you want it. Further, it’s not only sex. It’s intimacy.” They really are just alike. It’s kind of gross. “I’ve spent weeks turning the problem over in my mind. Not only for you, you must realize. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“We could-” Will starts, then swallows. Tries again. “We could, maybe, have you-” Another swallow. A terrible, acidic taste in the back of his throat. “Let you… be with- with someone else first. Get you used to sensation-”

“No. That holds absolutely no interest for me.”

“Oh, good,” Will breathes quickly, relief evident. At Hannibal’s barely there smirk, Will says, “I mean, I’d kill them. You know I’d kill them. Wait, no, I wouldn’t. Not if it would actually help you. Who am I trying to kid? I’d fucking rip them to pieces and you wouldn’t even be able to salvage-”

“Will. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Will you please try with me?” Will asks, trying not to plead. He doesn’t want Hannibal to feel even worse if he has to reject him. “We can go as slow as you need. I just- I want to touch you. We’ve survived each other this long, haven’t we? You won’t hurt me, Hannibal.”

“I had a blade to your throat an hour ago.”

“And you didn’t even break skin.”

Hannibal looks like he’s torn between hunger and horror. “Perhaps, tying me up might be our best course of action to start.”

“Okay, um,” Will all but fucking whimpers, literally squirming as the image of Hannibal vulnerable and  _ beneath him _ makes his stomach drop. “I’m gonna need you to be more careful with your words, unless you want me to make this happen a lot faster.”

Hannibal smiles, that soft, genuine thing he does and Will knows, as much as he’d like to tie him up, he doesn’t want that to be their first time.

He doesn’t particularly want to die, either, but that’s less important than Hannibal being fully capable and in the moment.

“Stop looking so sad,” Will says gently, cupping Hannibal’s cheek. “You have me. You’ll have all of me. We’ll get there. Quit pulling away from me.”

“I was obvious, was I?”

“Hannibal. It’s me.”

“I just thought,” Hannibal replies quietly, taking one of Will’s hands between his own, holding it like china. “I  _ think _ that I am not as selfish as I once assumed. If I… isolated myself away, perhaps you’d move on. Onto something that can suit your needs better.”

Will clutches his hand. “You suit my needs just fine.”

“This is unfair to you, dear. I think I’ve inflicted enough unfairness onto you already.” He brings Will’s hand to his lips, kissing Will’s knuckles gently. “You could have anyone. A normal existence, away from all this.”

“I could,” Will agrees. “I could find another wife. Someone really pretty, you know? Like, tall and ginger, really funny. Get a dog or five. Maybe have some kids. God, we could go on family vacations-”

“Enough.”

“Exactly,” Will says pointedly. “Now, stop being a huge pain in my ass and tell me that I can kiss you anytime I want.”

Will doesn’t even wait for an answer before he slides closer, until his knee is pressed into Hannibal’s leg. “Slow, I promise,” he whispers, leaning forward.

Hannibal breathes deeply, and Will can feel him trembling. When their lips meet this time, it’s gentle, and Will sighs with relief against Hannibal’s mouth. Instinctively, he drops his hand to Hannibal’s leg, lightly squeezing his inner thigh. Hannibal groans against Will’s mouth and pulls back, breathing hard. Hannibal has his eyes clenched shut, looking pained again.

“Any urges to kill me?”

_ “ Yes _ . Always.”

Will smiles because it’s romantic and he’s supremely fucked up. He presses his forehead to Hannibal’s. “Any  _ overwhelming _ urges to kill me?”

“I don’t think it would truly lead to your death. Pain, however, is another matter entirely.”

“Should’ve known you’d be kinky.”

Hannibal relaxes at that, smiling a bit and finally opening his eyes. “Actually, it would seem my proclivities lie at the other end of the spectrum. You’d be more likely to find me on my knees before you, pleading to serve in any manner you saw fit.”

“Fuck,” Will says through clenched teeth, unable to stop himself from getting a tight grip on his cock through his jeans. “I want you so fucking much.”

He can feel Hannibal’s labored breathing against his lips, see the tremor in his hands but fuck it,  _ fuck everything _ , he’s doing this. They’re doing this. He’s gonna go mad if he doesn’t.

_ Hell of a way to go, I guess _ _,_ he thinks, sliding his fingers into Hannibal’s hair.  _ Hell of a way to go. _


End file.
